


Hurt

by Krystalicekitsu



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Emotional, Gen, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gunman could only watch, muscles straining with the effort of stopping himself from rushing to the blond. But blue eyes never wavered as Cloud downed a fourth of the bottle, slicing his lips open. There was such raw agony in them already, Vincent doubted they noticed, or minded, the added physical pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed exploring this aspect of Cloud and Sephiroth's relationship, and it was good practice for TKKS. There's a few scene's in TKKS with this level of emotional turmoil, and I haven't generally written anything this angry before.

__I don’t care what they say  
I’m in love with you  
They try to pull me away  
But they don’t know the truth 

  


“You know,” Cloud sighed, glancing down at his seventh shot of bourbon, “I dun thin’ I can do it, Vincent. I jus _don_ ’. Not _him_.”

The blond shifted gently, two cases worth of empty beer bottles rolling and clinking together on the messed up and trashed bed. Idly, he watched as a bottle of Icicle Logger slipped off the mattress’ edge and fell onto a hastily constructed pyramid of Summons’s Promise cans. It wasn’t his favorite (Ancient’s Choice kicked the ass of any booze on the planet, and not just because of it’s name), but Summons’s Promise had quite a kick and he really needed the release tonight.

“It wouldn’ be so bad if I didn’ know he was still there, ya know? But i’s _him_ an I _c-can’t_ -“ he trailed off, hands beginning to shake.

Vincent looked over at him in concern. It wasn’t the first time Cloud had done this, drinking himself unconscious, and it wouldn’t be the last. Not for a long time to come. _Definitely_ not before they killed Sephiroth. It had shocked him, the first time, to walk in on Cloud surrounded by beer bottles and empty vodka and whiskey glasses. He had panicked, thinking the swordsman’s intention was his own death, but when unfocused blue eyes glowed up at him— _pain, such pain_ — he remembered that it took _that much_ just to make Cloud tipsy.

Two cases of the hardest beer Midgar had to offer (graciously stolen from Cid’s hold), seventeen mixed drinks, and the blond was only now getting a little wobbly. It would probably take another two bottles of bourbon for him to pass out.

As he watched in stoic sympathy, Cloud downed the shot, grimacing – _who drinks bourbon without a chaser?_ — and reached for the bottle uncapped on the nightstand. The blond swore as his attempts to refill only got him rivulets of alcohol down his bare hands, his body shaking too much to make the amber stream hit the bottom of the shot glass. It wasn’t the booze, because he hadn’t been at it long enough, and it wasn’t chills, even though the window was wide open, because Cloud was _mako_ and mako didn’t let you get chills.

The blond had given up with the glass sometime during his musings, and was now chugging the rest of the bottle.

“Cloud, it isn’t Sephiroth anymore,” he wasn’t sure why he was saying this, why it mattered to him, except that this entire situation was his fault— _why, why cant he see it!? It’s me! I’m the reason you hurt! I’M THE REASON HE’S DEAD!_ —but Cloud never blamed the gunman, only himself, “it’s only JENOVA. You have to kill him to set it all right.”

“No,” the blond murmured in denial, and Vincent frowned. Cloud had told them that was what had to be done, why did he say different now?

“Not Her, not jus Her,” blue eyes welled with tears and ungloved hands shook worse with the effort not to cry, “him too. He’s still there, still holdin on, still fightin.”

“Cloud,” the gunman shook his head, again wondering at his actions, “Sephiroth died in the Nebilheim reactor; there’s nothing left-” _-of the person you once loved._ But he held his tongue, because Cloud had never said it, and love was one thing that he would never wish on another, because love kills.

“No!” Cloud exploded, flinging the empty bottle against a far wall so hard, it shattered on impact, “I’s NOT _jus_ ’ HIM! I’s her, too! I know! She _showed_ me! She’s trap’d in her ow’n mind! He’s- _He’s makin’ her do tha’_!”

Vincent’s heart broke as he watched Cloud collapse to the ground, tears streaming from his eyes which glowed brighter with his pain.

“He showed me… in a dream,” the blond whispered in despair, eyes wide and unseeing, “he talk’d to me. An’ he was-… _he was home_.”

Tears fell steadily as the swordsman, ex-SOLDIER, broken lover fumbled with the lid to the second bottle, giving up when numbed fingers failed to coordinate. He broke the bottle top clean, like snapping a dried twig, and raised the bottle to his lips. The gunman could only watch, muscles straining with the effort of stopping himself from rushing to ease the bottle away. But blue eyes never wavered as Cloud downed a fourth of the bottle, slicing his lips open. There was such raw agony in them already, Vincent doubted they noticed, or minded, the added physical pain.

 _Sephiroth… that person talks to you, Cloud? In your dreams you are connected as more than Hojo’s failed clone? Without JENOVA?_ And now Vincent’s sympathy was bittersweet, because he and Lucretia had never shared such a gift, and he was both glad, and distressed by it.

“Gaia, ‘m so _fuckin_ stupid. I nev’r shud’ve… if on’y I’d-“ he dropped the now empty bottle and wrapped his arms around himself. The eyes shedding gentle tears squeezed themselves shut and he sobbed.

“He’z… The _only_ … Gaia, I-!” Vincent watched in silence as blood oozed from where Cloud’s fingernails had ripped into his arms.

“So _weak_ …useless…failure…” a pained chuckle escaped his lips, a broken sound, “…Hojo, _Hojo_ had it right… so _worthless_ … I can _never_ make it up to him… I can’t, I _can’t_.”

Vincent watched in silence, his silent vigil never changing as the agonized form of one of his few friends cried himself to sleep. It tightened something deep in him with an unshakable sadness to watch Cloud do such things to himself.

The gunman stayed like that, silent watching for a long while, til the frown illuminated in pale moonlight melted away under the softest whisper of lips, to drift upwards towards the clear, crisp night sky. A breathy prayer and praise in one.

“… _Sephiroth_ …”

_My heart’s crippled by the vein_  
 _That I keep on closing_


End file.
